


Fide Canem

by CaptainOptimism



Category: Ratched (TV)
Genre: Again, F/F, Fluff, Gwendolyn Briggs is a Dog Person I Am Not Taking Suggestions, Life in Mexico, Mildred Learning To Share Her Life, The Softest Kind of Fluff, Very Very Brief Mentions of Cancer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainOptimism/pseuds/CaptainOptimism
Summary: In which Gwendolyn makes a new friend, and Mildred must adapt to having this friend track mud onto her carpets.
Relationships: Gwendolyn Briggs/Mildred Ratched
Comments: 16
Kudos: 62





	Fide Canem

**Author's Note:**

> Long time, no see!
> 
> I promise the Space series will be picked up real soon! I just absolutely needed to get this out of my head.
> 
> I'm lucky enough to work with dogs and quite honestly seeing them every week is what has gotten me through a good chunk of this hellscape of a year. Figured I should pass on some of the ~good canine vibes~!
> 
> Emma, if you're reading this on here, thank you for letting me scream about dogs to you for like three days straight. Love you forever.
> 
> Enjoy some of the stickiest fluff I've ever written, and for the cat folks out there, I'm sorry <3

The morning was warm, much warmer than usual. The sun was barely peeking up from the horizon, and yet the heat already felt oppressive in its presence. What else was there to do but seek solace by the ocean?

The walk from their villa was quiet. Mildred carried their breakfast in one hand, and held Gwendolyn’s hand firm in her other. It was on early mornings like this that they could enjoy the small delights of having someone to love without the fear of contemptuous eyes striking them down to earth. Especially on Sundays -- everyone trekking off to morning mass meant they had an extra hour or so to spend enjoying each other's company outside of closed doors.

It took Mildred all of five seconds before she was sprawled out on their blanket, nose plunged back into the latest medical journal she’d managed to get a hold of. Well, ‘the latest medical journal that she had managed to steal off of someone’s desk at Gwendolyn’s last appointment’ might be more appropriate phrasing -- semantics. Mildred had to be well informed, just in case the mistletoe treatments fell through.

Just in case.

Truth be told, Gwendolyn was almost completely in remission, and truth be told that didn’t ease any of Mildred’s fears. It wasn’t over until it was over. Even as she watched Gwendolyn swim amidst the few waves that seemed to rise out of nowhere, she worried. Even though she looked more agile and lively than she had back in Monterey, there was a pit in her stomach, always. Little seemed to quell her nerves lately, except watching Gwendolyn swim the particular stroke she was practicing now -- butterfly, she thinks it’s called. She’d once told Gwendolyn that she looked like an inchworm lost in the ocean, swishing in and out of the water. It made both of them laugh, and Mildred now noticed that Gwendolyn made sure to swim that way every time they made their way down to the shore.

It was about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes later, when Gwendolyn began making her way out of the ocean. Before Mildred could admire the similarities she bore to _The Birth of Venus_ , though, she noticed that Gwendolyn wasn’t making her way back to the blanket, instead veering off to her left, towards the section of dune that was pierced by the edge of a cliffside.

Odd.

Mildred started up from the blanket to follow her, partially out of a desire to be near Gwendolyn again, mostly because of her stifling curiosity. She did not find what she expected to, not by a longshot.

There, soaking wet and crouched in the sand was Gwendolyn, head tilted as she observed.. A dog.

A dog that barely looked like a dog.

He was some sort of mutt, that much was clear. He had a burst of grey on the tip of his muzzle, though that was barely visible behind the sand that was caked on nearly every inch of him. He had fairly pointy features, long snout, thin face, ears that seemed to stand straight up, save for the very tips of them that sort of drooped to the side. He had the widest eyes, almost human. The fear in them reminded Gwendolyn of Mildred. How they darkened at the sight of something imposing and unfamiliar.

“What are you-”

“Shh, softer, darling,” Gwendolyn answered without turning her head to Mildred. Her instructions were gentle, though, not demanding. Never demanding.

Mildred clasped her hands behind her back, continuing to analyze the scene in front of her. Clearly she was missing something.

“What are you doing?” she tried again, whispering over the sounds of Gwendolyn’s quiet coos.

“Could you run and grab me our basket, sweetheart?”

Well that didn’t answer her question. Mildred did as she was told, though, picking up her pace to a jog as she traveled back to their blanket. Had anyone else engaged with her as Gwendolyn just did she’d be putting her foot down, demanding to be caught up. She wondered why she felt no resentment at not being kept in the loop, having information withheld from her. Trust, she supposed. What a strange thing.

The dog had shifted it’s position by the time Mildred had returned to the cliffside. It was no longer turned away, instead it regarded Gwendolyn head on, tongue still hanging far out as it tried to relieve itself of the heat that was only rising by the minute.

Gwendolyn shifted through the basket wordlessly, save for a quiet “thank you” as Mildred handed it over. She pulled a slice of bologna out, holding it in her mouth as she continued to rummage for their water jug.

“Gwendolyn Briggs!” Her voice was still hushed, but there was a distinct scolding tone on the edge of it. “That happens to be mine!”

“Darling, really,” she attempted to reason around the lunch meat still between her teeth. She was awfully hard to argue with, though, sitting cross legged in the sand, a piece of bologna hanging from her mouth, hair still soaking wet from her swim and arm elbow deep in a picnic basket. Lucky her.

Mildred’s shoulders slumped in defeat, “you owe me,” she huffed, casting another glance over to the dog who now looked incredibly intrigued.

Gwendolyn let out a laugh from the back of her throat, pouring a majority of their water into their thermos lid before tearing the meat into smaller chunks. She tossed a piece in front of her, letting it land halfway between herself and the dog, who had paused his wild panting to observe the women in front of him.

Then silence.

Gwendolyn waited, directing her glance anywhere but the dog. Mildred also waited, for what though, she wasn’t sure.

Mildred had incredibly limited experience with animals, far more limited than most women her age. Though she supposed it was a blessing in disguise, most things she _had_ been exposed to in her youth had bred fear that followed her for years. Some which still followed her.

She’d found a cat, once. It was a day or so after she’d run. Run from that house, run from Edmund, run towards a new life for herself. She’d been hiding in the forest-- cold, alone, scared. Alone. It had been dusk when a mangy looking black cat had found her. He’d run himself along her legs, curled it’s tail up her calf and let her brush her hand along its back. There was a moment where Mildred felt hopeful for a friend. She let herself imagine what it might be like to have a companion, like one of those kids from the storybooks. Just her and her cat, traveling together and relying on no one but each other.

The cat had left once it realized she’d had no food to offer. She couldn’t even start a fire for the two of them. Useless.

Besides, she’d never had the time for a pet, not on her route to find Edmund, and certainly not when she’d finally managed to secure a position in the hospital. After that there was Gwendolyn, and how could she ever ask for anything more than Gwendolyn?

She’d heard stories of Gwendolyn’s childhood pets though. They’d had a cat that had run away the spring before she started primary school, then some sort of bird that had an affinity for ruthlessly pecking at her fingers, then their dog. 

It was some sort of stocky, herding dog, with fur that hung past its eyes and a mouth that seemed to always be lined with drool. He was more charming then he sounded, Gwendolyn promised. He was meant to be a sort of guard dog, but he’d ended up only ever guarding Gwen. Anytime anyone dared to pat the top of her head or pinch her cheeks, Bailey came bounding in from wherever he’d settled himself, letting out a bark that was known to make most grown men stumble backwards. Aside from that, though, he was the most docile dog anyone had ever seen. He’d put up with Gwendolyn using him as a pillow as she napped, and never put up a fight about bathtime, despite the fact that he was the only dog in the neighborhood who was afraid of water. Gwen had been in college by the time he passed, and she’d always told Mildred she was too stuck on her first best friend to ever adopt another dog. Few could compete with Bailey.

“What a good boy.”

Mildred heard the whisper, even as the ocean seemed to grow louder behind them with the passing time.

The dog was standing now, taking a few steps closer to the mysterious snack that had been offered to him. He picked the lunch meat up and began to chew, tongue flicking out wildly in an attempt to clear his mouth of sand. Mildred had never seen anything like it.

She’d also never seen anyone as gentle and patient as Gwendolyn.

With her unexpectant smile, her soft voice, the way her body seemed to open towards this strange dog without fear. With her hand stretched out in a gesture of compassion, the way she seemed to have an innate trust in this animal, the way her eyes sparkled at the prospect of making a new friend.

It made her want to cry, how proud she was to love someone so magnificent. A pearl amongst oyster shells.

It took her by surprise, the way the dog so easily gravitated towards Gwendolyn. The way it began eating from her palm with a sudden fervor, and the way Gwendolyn just seemed to… let him. The surprise must’ve been plastered all over her features, because now Gwendolyn was motioning for Mildred to join her.

Oh.

“I don’t... think I know how. Or, I don’t. I don’t want to hurt him.”

Mildred’s figure was stiff, shoulders tucked back and hands still wrung behind her back. There was a familiar look akin to fear in her eyes, like she might break out into a sprint if she became anymore uncomfortable.

This was completely new territory to Mildred, and nothing managed to strike a chord in Mildred like uncertainty and unfamiliarity. If there was any fraction of a chance that she might lose her footing and slip, Mildred wouldn’t even begin the climb.

Gwendolyn looked at her with so much love, so much understanding, that Mildred felt almost transparent. Then she was offering her hand to Mildred, telling her without words that if she was going to fall, Gwendolyn was going down with her -- happily so.

She accepted the hand and got down to her knees, as gracefully as she could given the circumstances, still much further from the dog than Gwendolyn, still much more wary than Gwendolyn.

“Here,” Gwendolyn handed her a piece of what used to be part of her breakfast, tucking it into her free hand, “a peace offering.”

Mildred held out her hand, unsteady as ever, face scrunched ever so slightly as if she expected the dog’s tongue to sting like acid. She flinched as she felt him inhale hurriedly along her hand, and she might’ve stood and called the whole thing off if she hadn’t been so… intrigued. She watched as the dog seemed to take in her whole scent, pausing before accepting the bologna from her. Fascinating.

And god, was Gwendolyn proud.

“Looks like you’ve got the seal of approval,” she nudged Mildred gently with her shoulder, her smile spreading across the entirety of her face.

“He’s quite the gentleman,” Mildred’s remark was completely serious, and it only made Gwendolyn’s face brighten further.

“Well, certainly more polite than any of the men I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”

Mildred let out a laugh, this time at a normal register, and the change in volume didn’t seem to startle the dog still munching out of her palm. In fact he didn’t even seem to notice. He was ravenous.

“Looks like he’s been without a decent meal for quite awhile,” Gwendolyn noted, gesturing towards his protruding ribs. He didn’t appear to be on death’s door, thankfully, but it was clear the world had not been kind to him -- a feeling not unfamiliar to Mildred. Gwendolyn registered the sympathy-- or rather, empathy -- on her face immediately.

There were a few beats of silence, before Gwendolyn spoke, her voice hesitant.

“We could always give him a place to stay.”

Mildred’s eyes didn’t leave the dog. She took in his features again. Noticed the way his legs seemed to tremble with his own weight, saw just how lean his face was, his skin pulled as taught as it would go.

“If that’s ok with you,” Gwendolyn tried again. These things took time with Mildred. She had time.

“He needs a name,” Mildred’s reply was almost instant. She nearly regretted the words as they fell off of her tongue, but she’d weighed the other possible scenarios for this dog in her head. This was the only option.

Mildred walked alongside Gwendolyn on the way home, who was bent over nearly the entire way, luring the dog behind them, giving him as much time as he needed to catch up, to get comfortable. Praising him with every step he took.

They’d taken the long way home, to avoid any undue stress from passing people, passing cars, passing animals. Sure, it’d made for a _very_ sweaty journey, but by the time they reached their front door, the dog was taking upwards of five, six, seven steps towards Gwendolyn without any sort of reinforcement. Worth the sweat. Plus, it’d given them ample time to discuss naming possibilities, amongst other things. Thank heavens for that money Mildred had run into -- veterinary practices apparently charged a fortune.

They’d landed on Charles.

Well, Mildred had landed on Charles, to which Gwendolyn objected that all of the other dogs would make fun of him if he had to go around with such a formal title. Mildred had rolled her eyes and compromised.

Charlie it was, then.

His first week was full of adjustments.

It had taken Mildred long enough to adapt to sharing a home with another person, with the woman she was _sure_ she’d be spending the rest of her life with. She hadn’t anticipated having such a difficult time adapting to sharing a home with a dog as well.

Perhaps part of the issue was jealousy. Charlie had taken quite the shine to Gwendolyn because, Mildred reasoned with herself, who wouldn’t? He was there when they woke up, there when they found moments of peace midday, and there when they went to sleep. Mildred didn’t mind his presence so much as she minded that Gwendolyn now kept a hand on him and a her other hand on Mildred.

She’d figured she’d earned the right to _both_ of Gwendolyn’s hands, damn it.

She was still wary of petting him. Charlie did not share this wariness.

Given the opportunity to, he’d find a way to nudge his muzzle right into Mildred’s lap, eyes staring up at her expectantly and tongue hanging lopsided out of his mouth. She would always _try_ , at least. She sort of rested her hand atop his head and... waited for his next move. Charlie’s next move, as it turned out, was always to remove his head and default back to Gwendolyn, who always greeted him with an excited smile and eager hands.

“I just really don’t want to hurt him.”

The two were sat up in bed, sleep not reaching them quite as quickly as it usually had. Gwendolyn was reading by the yellow light of the bedside lamp and Mildred was tucked as far into her side as she could manage. Charlie was asleep at their feet, his back feet splayed out across the width of their mattress like some kind of frog. Gwendolyn removed her eyes from her book at the sound of Mildred’s voice.

“What was that?” Her hand idly twirled the ends of Mildred’s hair, resting her cheek on top of the mess of chestnut hair beside her.

“Charlie. What if I… break him?”

Gwendolyn smiled, placed her book on the nightstand and turned her body fully to face Mildred. She held her cheek in her palm, waited for Mildred to meet her eyes.

Her careful Mildred. Always cautious, like she’d spent her entire life walking on thin ice.

“I love you,” the words sort of fell out of her without permission, but she smiled despite it. 

Mildred smiled and ducked her head, nuzzling her face back into Gwendolyn’s neck, sighing as she looked down at the snoring lump at their feet.

“You will not, break him, sweetness. I can promise you that.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Do too.”

“ _How_?”

“Because the goofball ran headfirst into the sliding door this morning while you were in the shower.”

“What?!” Mildred sat straight up. Her brow might’ve been furrowed if it wasn’t resting at the edge of her hairline in shock.

Gwendolyn laughed a bright, genuine laugh. She grabbed Mildred’s hands and she kissed them, she squeezed them and she held onto this woman that she loved so, _so_ much.

“And he’s fine.”

Mildred shot another glance to Charlie, still sleeping soundly, though loudly, overtop both of their feet. Who would’ve guessed that the pile of bones and fur they’d found on the beach, now starting to plump up quite a bit, would be so durable.

So she started to try.

That’s how, a week later, Gwendolyn tore her eyes from the paper and witnessed one of the most exciting sights she’d ever seen.

They’d both taken their coffee on the deck that morning, the weather was warm, but there was enough cloud cover that neither woman had to worry about burning. They sipped their coffee in comfortable silence, the radio in the kitchen playing just loud enough to be heard from outside. Mildred held another odd journal in her hand, chewing on her lip as she read about a developing polio vaccine, as Gwendolyn marked her way through the crossword. She heard the familiar click of Charlie’s paws growing nearer, and expected to feel him perch himself at her feet. After a few moments, she felt nothing, and as soon as she opened her mouth to call for him, her breath caught in her throat.

There was Charlie, head perched in Mildred’s lap, and there was Mildred, her hand scratching rhythmically behind his ear. Either Mildred had a surge of sudden bravery, or she was too engrossed in her reading to care. It meant no difference to Gwendolyn.

She settled herself back in her chair, the widest smile plastered on her face as her eyes grew watery behind her sunglasses.

The three got on fairly well after that.

Mildred was still learning, but more often than not, her curiosity overpowered any panic swimming through her. Thankfully so, because Charlie’s quirks began to reveal themselves more frequently.

“ _What_ _in the world_ is he doing?”

Mildred stood at their sink, washing out the coffee pot as she watched Charlie squirm on his back, his body twisting left and right so furiously that Mildred thought he might snap himself in half.

Gwendolyn peeked her head out from around the bathroom door frame. She shrugged in Mildred’s direction.

“He’s itchy,” she spoke around her toothbrush, smiling as Mildred made a face at a rather gutteral noise that erupted from Charlie. Their area rug seemed to really hit the spot.

“Charles, please,” she sighed over his grunting, her face still slightly contorted as she returned to her scrubbing. She’d made a habit of ‘full name’-ing Charlie if she deemed him a nuisance, and Gwendolyn couldn’t get enough of it.

Despite his noises and his frantic movements and his manic barking every time he spotted a dragonfly, Mildred persisted, and she found herself becoming fond of the little man.

Though admittedly she could do without his unique brand of liver scented morning breath. Especially on the days he decided he was going to wake Mildred before Gwendolyn. The kisses were… a very nice gesture, and she couldn’t say she didn’t appreciate them, but when his tongue ventured dangerously close to her mouth, she never hesitated to shove him to Gwendolyn’s side of the bed. She’d made Gwendolyn wait longer than a month before she tried anything like that -- there was no way a dog was going to french her after two weeks.

Charlie had been with them for almost a month and half the next time they had a storm. They’d had rain, which Charlie _loved_ . He _and_ Gwendolyn had come into the house looking like drowned rats after the last rainfall, prompting Charlie to frantically shake the moment they walked through the front door. Mildred had given them hell for that stunt.

Mildred had become much better at surviving storms. They still woke her, but not nearly as violently as they used to, which also meant that she no longer woke up Gwendolyn -- for that she was grateful. 

She’d managed to form her own little routine throughout the years. It helped.

She’d head over to the couch, which was the most central part of their home, as far as she was concerned, making sure to shut the blinds on her way over. She’d turn on one of the tableside lamps and start taking conscious, deep breaths. When she felt the thunder rolling in she’d take a huge inhale and hold it. It felt silly, but it helped.

At first, her main concern was waking Gwendolyn, but it turned out that, left undisturbed, Gwendolyn could sleep through a five alarm house fire -- something else she was grateful for.

She’d been midway through closing the blinds when she heard Charlie hop down from their bed, which was odd. Typically he was an even deeper sleeper than Gwendolyn.

She took a seat as she flicked the light on beside her, the warm glow casting a shadow on the far wall. In it, she saw Charlie’s pacing form. She leaned over the back of the couch, watching his cautious movements. His head was ducked, as was his tail, almost like the day they’d first found him. His legs seemed to tremble in the same manner as well. Curious. 

Her eyes followed him as he tried to get comfortable under their kitchen table, but there was another flash of lightning that erupted from beneath the curtains, and it looked as though the lightning had reached inside and electrified the ground Charlie stood on.

He skittered across the floor, his feet trying and failing to get a grasp on the tile. Mildred stood instantly, though she didn’t have a full plan of action just yet.

She took a step towards him, where he’d huddled himself against the side of Gwendolyn’s armchair. She stopped herself.

Mildred sunk to her knees, holding her breath through the next rumble of thunder, exhaling sharply as it passed.

She held her hand out to the dog, murmuring to him as she’d watched Gwendolyn do so carefully on the beach.

There was a moment where he froze, and Mildred felt a piece of herself shatter.

She wasn’t qualified to do this, what did she know about caring for a scared animal? She should wake Gwendolyn, it was a silly idea for her to even attempt this in the first place.

He took a step towards her, then another, and another. By the time the next flash of lightning rolled around he was huddled almost completely against her.

Mildred held her breath in anticipation of the thunder, taking care to wrap an arm around Charlie as she did.

The way he quivered underneath her made him feel as if he had turned to gelatin. Mildred had never felt anything so fragile, so temperamental.

She kept one arm around him, readjusting to sit cross legged as she grabbed a throw off of the couch beside her. He curled up between her legs, into a tighter ball than Mildred would’ve ever thought possible, his head resting on her thigh. Mildred wrapped the throw around her shoulders, the chill from the stone underneath them settling into her now that her own panic had subsided.

She let a hand fall to the nape of Charlie’s neck, leaning her head against the couch cushion beside him as she stroked his fur in the same gentle pattern, never letting her hand lose contact for too long.

It was around 9 when Gwendolyn woke, later than she would’ve liked to, but the closed blinds didn’t allow for much sunlight to seep through and rouse her on their own. She’d become accustomed to waking up to a dark house after a stormy night, and she knew that if Mildred hadn’t made it back to bed after the chaos outside had subsided she’d be tucked into the corner of the couch, cocooned into one of the blankets that Gwendolyn always favored.

Mildred always said she loved the way her scent lingered.

She expected to wake up to a cold spot beside her that morning. What she had not expected was the sight that greeted her as she shuffled into the den.

There, still huddled together on the floor, was Mildred and Charlie. Mildred was haphazardly slumped against the couch, her toes nearly blue thanks to the blanket that had slipped off her shoulders in the middle of the night. Charlie lay splayed out in her lap, his head hanging over Mildred’s leg, and his own legs tangled up in some sort of dog Celtic knot.

Ever the light sleeper, Mildred, woke to the sound of Gwendolyn’s slippers brushing towards her. She was greeted with a kiss to the temple as Gwendolyn knelt besides the two of them, promptly followed by a dull ache jolting through her neck. She groaned as she rubbed her own shoulder, head falling lazily against Gwendolyn’s.

They stayed like that for a while, Gwendolyn whispering how much she loved Mildred, how utterly proud of her she was, until Charlie began to stretch himself out of the nest he’d created for himself.

His jolt up from the floor to greet Mildred was almost instant, and it sent both women into a fit of belly laughs as he nearly knocked the two of them over with his gusto.

Mildred really didn’t mind the morning breath.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic consumed so much of my brain that I have myself convinced that Charlie is a canon character. Honestly, might work him into a future fic. 
> 
> ALSO, I'm sure this goes without saying, but just so I have a clean conscience: please don't approach stray dogs like this! Stress and fear can manifest themselves in a TON of different ways in pups (and other animals), namely aggression. For the sake of safety contact your local clinic/animal control!
> 
> Anywho, now that my PSA is out of the way, come visit me on tumblr! I recently started using it again after.. more time than I'd like to admit!
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/generallyoverwhelming
> 
> Stay safe!


End file.
